Hearing Colours
by Akane Kuran
Summary: This is based in the Twisted Steel universe when Magenta is about 15 or 16, before a suicide attempt. This may be disturbing to some people.


**Hearing Colours.**

**Sins-type fic but in Twisted Steel universe, Genta gets incredibly high and makes observations about how she got like how she is.**

**In this I think she'd be around 15-16. I'm not going to get specific, I just let myself zone out while writing this.**

**And just so you know, I'm not schizophrenic and I don't huff chemicals. It's called fanFICTION for a reason, little babies...**

* * *

It started with Wite-Out.

My mom always keeps some in the kitchen in case we write something in pen and fuck it up. We usually do but she gets the big huge containers of it. Her mistake.

I got a container the size of my foot and brought it into my room, I got some rubbing alcohol to go with it and blew my nose. Then I remembered my hairspray and got that too. Within minutes I was hearing colours. I don't remember, but blue sounded kind of sexy... Pink was kind of a mashed-potato feeling... My sister's voice sounded really orange when she yelled at my brother to get out of the bathroom. Bathroom sounded like a teal word, I was really freaked out when I yelled my name at the ceiling and Magenta sounded kind of ochre-y.

So I smelled some more hairspray until I wanted to puke. I put my head out the window and the wind sounded so puce it was unbelievable. But I heard Demetrius's cobalt voice coming through my fingernails and I almost passed out. But all the other ones sounded amber.

I needed more Wite-Out, I ran over and it got everywhere. It's winter. IT'S WINTER!

I threw open the doors of my balcony, it was snowing. SNOW?! I can't hear snow. How do I know what colour it is if I can't hear it, why is that? TELL ME!

No. Don't tell me. Nobody does. No-one told me why they hurt me, and why I match things and why things by themselves make me cry. Tears sound almost grey, like dying. Like when they hurt me. And why I'm sad all the time. And no-one wanted to tell me it wasn't my fault. When it's really my fault that I smell hairspray.

So I let the snowflakes get in my eyes so the tears would go away.

After I went back inside, I watched my knees for about half an hour. It hurt to look at, they weren't even. I couldn't focus, it was scary, with all the colours everywhere and the snow all over me.

I don't know why it's bad. I'm careful. I care about things. I know everything has feelings and the feeling I have is what I need to do, and Daddy says Mommy is making me worse by letting me sort things and count and match and she gives me two of everything, I get extra Christmas and Birthday presents. Perfume and nail polish to match. Four pairs of earrings. I have two piercings in each ear. So none are lonely like I was.

I let the rubbing alcohol fill my body with the weird shaky feeling it gives. Making me forget things, I want to die. But at the same time I don't. I'll miss things and wake up oblivious, I'll be in a place I don't know in a time I don't belong in. It will be out of place. High feels better than normal and normal is better than before.

My boyfriend says I'm 'hot' in his words. He loves me and I love him, but I'm scared. He doesn't know anything about me. He knows what I told him and he doesn't know what I do and he doesn't know what they did to me and I'm scared he'll do it to me. If he does it to me I'll go away and never come back. And I need more Wite-Out.

If I wasn't how I am, I'd be popular, people would care if I died. But I'm weird, I'm short, I wear black lace, I smell chemicals, I draw, I write without it being assigned, I cry when things are by themselves, I've only ever had one boyfriend.

My sister Delia used to always run home from the bus stop after school to make sure I hadn't killed myself. Everyone laughed at her until they met me. Then nobody would talk to me because they didn't know what to say. That's what Tafatia said anyway. She's usually right about everything anyway. But she can fuck off because I can hear colours. It's the one thing that I'm better at than her. It's all I have. People don't like me. People hate me. PEOPLE HATE ME SO MUCH I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY.

Maybe I should disappear for a while. And when I come back the colours will be gone. They'll go away. I'll be deaf and they'll go away. So Goodbye.

The colours want me now.


End file.
